I'm Right Here
by Meridas
Summary: Mia and Rhys share in the battles of Nox Castle, and the moments afterward.


_Author's Note: this scene takes place at Nox Castle in Daein, told from the other side of the annoying green line. These guys are some of my favorites, I have to admit… not enough love in the actual game, in my opinion. Anyway, enjoy and review._

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I don't own the Fire Emblem stuff, just this little story._

…

"Rhys!" Mia screamed. She dodged and wove through the battle, swinging her sword with one single purpose — she didn't care about freedom, or justice, or winning, she just wanted to find Rhys… she never should have left him, how stupid was she to leave him in the middle of a battle to go chasing after the enemy general.

She caught a glimpse of crumpled white robes against the wall of the fort, and her heart almost stopped. She shouldered someone out of the way — she had no idea if it was a friend or an enemy — and crashed down on her knees next to him. As gently as she could, she turned him over.

"Oh, Rhys," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Then she shook herself. "Where… staff…" she muttered, scanning the ground for it. "Come on, where's your stupid staff, you wouldn't— ha!" she dove for it, and pressed it into his hands. "C'mon, Rhys, c'mon," she whispered. She stroked his hair back from his face, staring at him with her heart pounding. "C'mon, Rhys, don't tell me I'm too late…"

Suddenly the wounded bishop drew in a shuddering breath. His hands curled around the staff, which glowed brighter. Mia sagged with relief as his dark amber eyes flickered open. "Mia…?"

"Stay still," she commanded. "Don't move, 'kay? Stay right there and don't think about anything except healing yourself. Got it? I'll be right here. Just gotta make sure nobody else attacks you." That said, she stood up, bringing her sword around, and faced the melee, daring anyone to try to finish off her Rhys.

It was a terrible fight. Mia didn't think she'd ever encountered common soldiers who fought so fiercely. She dispatched them one after another, but it was taking all her skill and determination just to keep going. They seemed just as determined to drive her out or kill her as she was determined to stay and guard Rhys. Once she glanced around desperately for Ike, wondering what was going on — he had to hurry and get their commander, if the battle kept up like this every one of them was going to die, on both sides…

Her glance took a moment too long. She had no time to react as an enemy swordsman rushed at her, and slipped past her hasty guard—

Fiery pain ripped through her abdomen. Mia was no stranger to pain, and she gritted her teeth and fought back — but as soon as that swordsman fell, Mia's knees gave out. She looked dumbly down at her sunset-colored robes, made darker and darker red by the spreading stain of blood. There was so much of it, her hands were instantly wet and sticky as she pressed shaking fingers over the wound… that hurt, too, but it hurt her worse when her sword slipped out of her grasp. She couldn't… no swordmaster should lose her sword, not even during battle, not even if she was hurt… her cheek felt cold now. Oh, she realized, she was laying on the stones… of course the stone was cold, there had been snow on it before the battle had scuffed it all away… but her other cheek was warm all of a sudden, as if something warm pressed against her face — someone's hand, she realized. Whose? Probably the same person whose voice she could hear, who was yelling somewhere in the distance — yelling at her, she was pretty sure, it was her name he kept using…

"Mia! Stay with me, Mia, hang on! Don't you dare, Mia, don't you dare leave me now! Hang on, Mia, hang on—"

Hang on to what? She wondered briefly. Then she felt a hand slip into hers, and she decided that she could hang on to that, if she wanted to. She wasn't sure she wanted to, though. Tightening her hand would hurt. Letting go wouldn't hurt at all…

"No, Mia, no! Please, Mia, hang on! I'm right here, Mia, don't you dare let go, don't, Mia, please don't…"

Okay, she thought blearily. Okay, if it makes you happy, voice…

And after that it was all darkness.

She hurt. That wasn't fair, she thought crossly. If she were dead, she shouldn't hurt. She shouldn't be cross, either. Shouldn't she be all happy and angel-y and perfect now? This didn't feel very perfect. This felt like she was lying on an uncomfortable camp bed and still wearing disgusting bloody clothes and she needed to brush her teeth.

Thoroughly irritated now, Mia opened her eyes. "Oh…" She sat up gingerly. "That would make a lot more sense."

"Finally," Mist sighed. She looked as bad as Mia felt. "We thought you'd never wake up."

"We?" Mia repeated. "Who — Rhys?" She sat bolt upright, remembering now: his injuries, defending him, his voice yelling at her to stay alive… "Is he okay?"

"He'll live, just like you," Mist said wearily. "He took some good knocks in the battle, and then he wore himself out healing you. You've both been scaring me a little; but now you're awake, and his fever broke a few hours ago. So I guess things are okay."

"What happened?" Mia asked. "I can get up, right? I've gotta change, and I want to see Rhys."

"Yeah. There's some water and your clothes over there." As Mia scrambled around getting cleaned up, Mist told her what had happened after she'd passed out: apparently a black dragon had shown up and blasted half the castle to get them to stop fighting. The Apostle's Army had retreated here, and there was a little pseudo-truce between the two armies while the dragons tried to talk some sense into Daein's general. Mia stretched, finally feeling clean and refreshed, and looked around for her sword. Her heart sank.

"Mist…my sword…"

The girl's shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Mia, we don't know where it went. There wasn't a lot of time for us to get out of there. We had to just get you and Rhys and the other injured. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Mia said gruffly. "It was just a sword… I can get a new one…" But she still felt like she'd failed. She hated failing, and this was one of the worst… for a swordmaster to lose her sword…

She straightened her shoulders. "Where's Rhys?"

Mist pointed. "In his tent. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep, I'm good," Mia said breezily. She ruffled Mist's hair. "Go on, get some rest yourself. It'd look bad for the Greil Mercenaries if all our healers worked themselves sick."

Mist smiled a little; then she left, and Mia went to look for Rhys. She had to try a few tents before she found his — they all looked the same — but finally she ducked inside quietly. It was dim inside, without the lamps lit. Rhys' orange hair stuck out above a haphazard pile of blankets. Mia smiled as she crossed the room and sat down on the floor by his camp bed. He didn't look like he was sleeping peacefully, though: his skin was far too pale, even by his standard, and his forehead wrinkled as he frowned in his sleep. He murmured something and shifted uneasily.

Mia leaned forward. "Hey, Rhys…" she touched his face, then found his shoulder under the blankets and shook it gently.

He started away, crying out. "Mia!" She thought at first that he was just startled to see her there, but then he rubbed his eyes, looked up at her, and said "Mia?" again, like he was confused.

"Good morning, sunshine," she said cheerfully — then she grunted in surprise as he threw his arms around her.

"You're safe," he murmured, his voice muffled in her hair. "You're safe."

Mia felt her face get warm as she put her arms around him. She closed her eyes, and wondered if he was strong enough to notice how hard her heart was beating. "Yeah," she assured him. "Yeah, Rhys, I'm fine." She nestled her face into the crook of his shoulder, noticing that he smelled like herbs. It made her smile for some reason.

But she pulled back, and studied him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and through his thin pale blue shirt she could see dark purple and black bruising. But he smiled at her, and his honey-colored eyes were alert and warm.

"By the way, thanks," she said. "You saved my life back there."

"You saved mine," he reminded her. "I think it's kind of pointless to try to keep count." But he looked away from her, and fidgeted with his blankets.

"What's wrong?" she asked, covering his nervous hands with hers. "You can tell me."

Rhys looked up at her; then to her surprise he freed his hands and placed them on either side of her face. "Don't ever leave me behind again, Mia," he said seriously.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know, I'm so sorry, you almost got killed because I—"

He shook his head. "You could have died." His voice shook slightly. "Mia, I know I'm weak, and I can't fight as well as anyone else, and I — I'm sorry I have to ask for your help…"

"Don't be stupid," she interrupted fiercely. "Rhys, you're the strongest person I know. Nobody else keeps going through everything that you do. Nobody else is always, always there to help us, even when you're sick."

"But that's my point, Mia," he said quietly. "I wasn't there to help you yesterday, and I should have been. It shouldn't have been such a close call — you nearly died, Mia. Please, I have to ask you, please let me stay close to you…"

"Of course," Mia promised. She covered one of his hands with hers. "Of course, Rhys. I'm right here, and I'll stay. I—" But she clammed up. She couldn't find the words, or the courage. She could be so brave in a fight, but this was a different kind of bravery, and she wasn't sure she was up to it. He was her friend, and what if she lost that if she tried to tell him? She liked their balance the way it was; even if she wanted something a little different, a little more, she told herself she didn't. Because her own tiny heartache was better than the bigger one if she lost his friendship.

Rhys waited quietly while she fought this little internal struggle; when she let her hand fall, he dropped his as well, with a tiny sigh. "Oh," he said suddenly. "There's something for you over in the corner there."

"Huh?" Mia looked around. She should have noticed before: the sword was so out of place in Rhys' tent, amongst his staves and light tomes. She darted across the tent, drawn to the blade's silvery glimmer. She picked it up, and her eyes widened in delight. She swung the sword experimentally a few times, and started grinning like a little kid. It felt perfect in her hand, lighter than most of the swords the army handed out, yet its edge gleamed wicked sharp. "Wow," she exclaimed, examining it more closely. "Where did you get this?" she asked Rhys incredulously.

He smiled at her delight. "I noticed no one brought your sword back. I'm sorry, I would have picked it up when we left, but I didn't think about it then… anyway, I asked Daniel to make a new one for you. He's seen you practice fighting enough… will it work for you?"

"Work!" Mia laughed. She flourished the blade before sheathing it. "I'll dance with this thing," she grinned at him. He smiled back up at her, and she returned to her seat beside him. "Thank you, Rhys. Thank you so much."

"It's just a sword," he mumbled, blushing a little.

Mia shook her head. "Nobody else thought about it, though. You're the only one who noticed and did something. That means a lot to me, Rhys." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. That would be alright, she told herself, as a thank-you. It didn't have to mean more.

Rhys started to speak, then stopped, then took her hand. He held it between both of his, staring down at it as if all the mysteries of the universe were about to be revealed to him. "Mia… I have to… when I thought…" he took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. "I don't want you to get hurt," he murmured, "because you're so important to—to the group, but also — but mostly… to me." He looked up at her, and gently kissed her hand.

Mia stared at him, her heart hammering. "Rhys," she whispered. She reached out and touched his face, then folded her hand around his; a smile started to creep across her face, but just as she'd decided to go for it, she remembered one of the reasons she'd always held back. She dropped her head and bit her lip.

"Mia?" he freed one hand and tilted her face back up to his. "What's wrong?" Anxiety, the same worry she had wrestled with for months now, settled in his eyes. "If you don't — I mean, it's okay—"

"It's not that!" Mia jumped to say. "It's just, I — Rhys, I… damn!" She buried her burning face in the blankets. _Wow. That was smooth_. She took a deep breath, trying hard to recall the reasons she'd given herself before, for staying at a safe distance. She almost laughed then. Mia had never had a normal person's concept of a safe distance.

"You're a priest," she mumbled finally into the blankets. "You're sworn to the goddess. I can't… I didn't want to hurt you by asking you to choose, or myself when you couldn't choose me. I've never felt like this about anybody else, but I never know what to say and I just don't even… ugh! Please shut me up now."

Rhys' gentle laugh eased the tension in her shoulders, let her look up at him. _This has just gone to the dark god, but hey, we're still friends._

"Is that it?" Rhys asked her, brushing her hair away from her face.

She hesitated slightly, frowning in puzzlement. "Is what… it?"

He smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh… but it's alright, Mia. It's not a choice between you and my faith… it's not like I can never fall in love. No vow I took prevents that."

Mia blinked, hardly daring to let hope rise in her chest. "But, I thought… I heard that it was a betrayal of the goddess… or something… bad," she finished lamely. "Isn't it?"

He shook his head. "There are so many philosophical answers to that, Mia… but how I feel… I have always followed my faith, and I always will but…" his eyes searched hers, deep and earnest. "Mia, you are my goddess," he whispered, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Who needed breathing, she decided as she impulsively leaned forward and kissed his lips. Rhys' fingers slid through her hair as he kissed her with an incredible sweetness unlike anything she could have imagined.

"Now, I'm pretty sure that's blasphemous," she teased, when they came apart for air. Apparently it was important, after all. Shame, that. She could have kept kissing him forever.

Rhys smiled and traced her lips with a finger. "Mm… no, I don't think so. Not the way I see it."

Mia considered that for a moment. "Okay," she said brightly. "You're the expert. In that case, what're the chances I can get another kiss before we have to go to a war meeting?"

"Pretty good."


End file.
